


Walking Barefoot

by carolinecrane



Category: Glee
Genre: Cliche, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween cliche fic.  It had to be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Barefoot

“Kurt, it’s time. This is the perfect opportunity for you to move on.”

That was all she’d said, but Kurt hadn’t needed to ask for clarification. He knew exactly what Rachel meant, just like he knew that reminding her it wasn’t up to her to decide when it was ‘time’ was a waste of breath.

“I hate costume parties,” he’d said instead. It wasn’t strictly true; he’d never passed up a chance to get dressed up back in high school, and one of his favorite things about the productions they put on in his college theater classes was the costuming.

“It’s not a costume party, it’s a masquerade ball.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, because honestly, a couple nights standing in for the actress who played Meg in an off-off- _off_ -Broadway production of “Phantom” didn’t make Rachel a star, and it certainly didn’t elevate a Halloween party to “Masquerade” proportions. Apparently she thought so, though, because her invitations had clearly stated that actual masks were required.

Still, it was easier to give in than argue with her, especially if he didn’t want to sit through yet another lecture on why it was time to stop moping and move on. Which was hardly fair, considering how long she’d moped around after she and Finn finally admitted they couldn’t make things work long distance any more than they could make them work when they both lived in Lima.

Besides, Kurt wasn’t moping, and even if he was, he had every right. Getting dumped via text was humiliating enough, but when he still had to see the jerk in question every day in class for the rest of the semester, it was even worse. And Kurt certainly wasn’t going to give his ex the satisfaction of _seeing_ him mope, but that didn’t mean he felt like suffering through one of Rachel’s parties.

Not that he had much choice, considering the party was happening in his own living room. Most of the time he didn’t mind living with Rachel, but this was one time when he longed for an 8x8 studio of his own where he wouldn’t have to deal with well-meaning but clueless roommates attempting to snap him out of his funk in the least productive way possible.

In the end it had been easier to come up with a costume than keep arguing with Rachel. Kurt figured he’d put the damn thing on, put in an appearance, and as soon as Rachel was really into the swing of entertaining, he’d lock himself in his room with his laptop and old musicals on Netflix until the party was over.

Putting together a costume was simple enough. He’d signed up for costume design on a whim at the beginning of the semester, which meant he had almost complete access to the university’s entire wardrobe of costumes, so he’d just borrowed a cape and tunic and a plumed hat, along with a sword from the prop department. Then he’d added a simple black mask from Duane Reade and his own black leggings and tall boots, and he had a passable d’Artagnan costume.

He could even throw in some fluent French to make his costume more authentic, if he actually felt like talking to anyone. But he knew all the people Rachel had invited, and while he didn’t actively dislike any of them, he wasn’t interested in spending the whole night listening to fellow theater students reciting their resumes and trying to one-up each other all night.

Well. Kurt thought he knew everyone on the guest list, but when the doorbell rang and Rachel opened it and threw her arms around someone in a perfect Zorro costume, Kurt wasn’t so sure. Their mystery guest was about Kurt’s height, dressed head to toe in black, with a full cape flowing behind him and a cloth mask that covered most of his face. All Kurt could see was a hint of tanned skin and a warm smile, and it felt a little familiar, but he couldn’t place why.

He couldn’t think of which of Rachel’s friends it could be, unless it was someone she’d met at an audition and conned into showing up at her party. Not that it mattered, because Kurt wasn’t interested in mingling with the people he did know, so he certainly wasn't going to make small talk with the random strays Rachel convinced to follow her home.

Kurt rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen to check on the hors d'oeuvres, just to give himself something to do. Not that there was much to organize, but it got him out of the flow of traffic as the living room started to fill up. Granted, it didn’t take much; their apartment wasn’t exactly spacious, and by the time half of Rachel’s guests had arrived they’d already reached standing room only and the party appeared to be spilling into the hall.

Which was just going to get them a call from the super – or worse, a visit from the cops – and Kurt really didn’t have the energy to deal with this. All he wanted was a nice, quiet evening, maybe a well-deserved bowl of Haagen-Daz and another viewing of “Gypsy” before calling it a night and going to bed early.

But there was still no sign of Rachel, and Kurt let out a put-upon sigh and resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to do crowd control. It was that or let things get out of hand before Rachel even got around to firing up the karaoke machine, and while letting the cops break up the party would solve one of Kurt’s problems, it wasn’t going to make them very popular with the neighbors.

He was shoving his way through the crowd in the living room when he collided with something warm and solid, and Kurt looked up to find himself face to face with Zorro. A hand landed on his arm, warm and solid through the fabric of Kurt’s tunic, and he swallowed hard and willed himself not to blush.

“Hey,” Zorro said, his voice low and deep and familiar somehow, but Kurt still couldn’t place it. He could have been any number of chorus members Kurt had been cast with in the past two years, or maybe a fellow student with whom he’d shared a class or two. “Where’s the fire?”

For a second Kurt just blinked at him, trying and failing to remember where he’d heard that voice. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

The mouth curved into a grin and Kurt felt another jolt of recognition, but just as he was about to put his finger on why Zorro seemed so familiar, he looked down at his costume and the moment was gone. “Well, we’re pretty much wearing the same outfit, so at least we know we have something in common.”

Kurt shook his head, but whether it was in answer to the question or to clear the nagging feeling that he should know where they’d met without having to ask, even he couldn’t say. “Zorro’s an American invention; the Three Musketeers were French. They’re two completely separate mythologies.”

He couldn’t prove it or anything, but Kurt had a sneaking suspicion that behind the cloth mask covering most of his face, Zorro was raising an eyebrow at him. One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile, and now Kurt was positive he was being laughed at.

“We both fight on the same side, though, right?”

“I suppose that’s true,” Kurt conceded, cheeks burning, and he told himself it was just because of the heat in the apartment. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”

Zorro shrugged and swayed a little closer, and Kurt told himself it was just the crowd pressing in on him. He definitely wasn’t flirting; he couldn’t be, mainly because that sort of thing just didn’t happen to Kurt. He’d dated since he got to New York, of course, but the list wasn’t exactly extensive, and the few relationships he’d had were with other students.

Being flirted with by a handsome stranger at a party was the last thing Kurt had been expecting. Not that he knew for sure that this particular stranger _was_ handsome, or even a stranger, for that matter. The niggling feeling that they’d met before came back instantly, and when Zorro opened his mouth to answer Kurt felt his stomach flutter.

“Let’s just say I’ve seen you around.”

The obvious question was 'where?', or possibly 'when, exactly', or even 'should I be researching New York's stalking laws?' But before Kurt settled on which to ask first he heard a commotion behind him, and he turned in time to watch Rachel plug in the karaoke machine.

He was busy contemplating whether it was worth it to try to stop her before one of the neighbors really did call the police when he felt something warm and solid press against his back, and when a familiar voice whispered close to his ear he had to bite back a gasp.

“Seems like she hasn’t had time to get drunk enough for that yet.”

And it wasn’t as though Rachel ever needed the excuse of too much Chardonnay to jump at the chance to perform for a captive audience, but the words implied that whoever was under the Zorro mask knew Rachel at least well enough to have seen her embarrass herself at a party before. If he could just focus for a moment Kurt knew he could figure it out, but the warmth pressed against his back was distracting, and when a hand landed on his arm he gave up trying to focus at all.

“You wanna get out of here before she tries to drag you up there with her?”

Kurt knew it was a possibility. What he didn’t know was how Zorro knew, unless they’d both been in the presence of Rachel and her karaoke fetish at the same time before. Which meant that technically they weren’t strangers, really, so Kurt wasn’t considering following a random stranger to parts unknown without telling anyone where he was going.

He knew better; he’d gotten plenty of lectures on not taking dumb chances in the city, first from his dad, and then at orientation once he got to college. But he’d been in New York for over two years now, and this was the first risk he’d considered taking. It was the first time he’d been propositioned by someone he didn’t recognize, and the idea of saying yes was terrifying, but it was exciting too.

Before he’d even made up his mind he found himself nodding, and when Zorro grinned and reached for his hand, another jolt of recognition flooded him. He let himself be pulled through the crowd toward the door, searching his memories the entire time for anyone in the drama department who fit the description of the person currently holding his hand.

They squeezed through the press of bodies in the hallway, toward the stairs and Kurt assumed they were headed out of the building and into the city. But when they reached the stairwell Kurt found himself being led up, and he frowned and tugged on the hand still gripping his.

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me,” Zorro said, and when he grinned Kurt felt a weird tug in the center of his chest.

“I don’t even know you,” he answered, but he started moving again anyway, up the stairs until finally they reached the top of the door that led to the roof. He opened his mouth to say that it was probably locked, which meant they’d just done a fair amount of cardio for no reason, but before he got the words out the door opened and he was being led onto the roof of his building for the first time.

It wasn’t much to look at; there was no rooftop garden like some of the buildings in Manhattan boasted, and there wasn’t a scene straight out of a romantic comedy with white lights and a café table set for two. It was just…a roof, with a brick ledge and a tar paper floor and a view of the subway tracks that Kurt rode into the city every day. But it was still beautiful, in its own way, and Kurt found himself following Zorro to the edge of the roof to look out over The Bronx.

“How did you know we’d be able to get up here?”

Zorro shrugged and glanced over at him long enough to smile. “I took a chance. What, you’ve never been up here before?”

Kurt reached up to pull his mask away from his face so he could get a better look at the view, leaning over the ledge long enough to peer down at the street below them. And he’d never thought of their building as all that tall, but from up here it looked really high.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Zorro said, but when Kurt looked at him, he wasn’t looking at the view. He was looking right at Kurt, full lips parted and closer than he had been a moment ago, and Kurt’s pulse picked up speed when he realized Zorro was about to kiss him.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” Kurt asked, voice a little breathy, and when Zorro smirked Kurt knew he hadn’t missed it.

A second later he registered the _way_ Zorro smirked, the slightly crooked tilt of his lips, and he knew he’d seen that smirk before. He knew that mouth – knew that voice – but there was no way he could be right. He couldn’t possibly be right, and when Zorro swayed even closer and kissed him, Kurt knew he had to be wrong.

His hand came up without his permission to curl around the front of a black shirt, fingers pressed against a solid chest and kissing back like it was his only chance. It took a second or two for him to come to his senses, but when he realized what he was doing Kurt pulled away with a gasp.

“Puck?”

Zorro let out a soft laugh, then he reached up and pulled off his mask, and a second later there was Puck, a couple years older but otherwise unchanged. Except he must have changed, because the Puck Kurt knew in high school wouldn’t have kissed him like that.

“I’m kind of insulted here,” Puck said, and Kurt could tell he was trying to make a joke of it, but he didn’t quite manage to hide his nerves. “I thought you’d figure it out faster than that.”

“Why on earth would I think it was you? I haven’t seen you in years.” Kurt frowned and pulled his hand away from Puck’s chest where it was still gripping his shirt, grateful for the darkness so Puck wouldn’t see him blush. “What are you even doing here?”

“Isn’t that kind of obvious?” Puck asked, and Kurt rolled his eyes when he smirked again.

“I meant what are you doing in New York,” Kurt answered, and when Puck took a step forward he forced himself to move out of reach. “The last I heard you were still in Ohio working on building your pool cleaning empire.”

“So you asked about me?”

“Hardly,” Kurt lied. “But Finn is my brother, technically speaking.”

"I would've asked about you. I mean, Finn and Rachel talk about you a lot, so I didn't have to, but I would have."

Kurt wasn't expecting that, but he wasn't expecting Puck to show up out of nowhere after over two years and kiss him, either, so maybe he didn't know as much about Puck as he'd always thought he did.

"Rachel never mentioned that she was in touch with you," Kurt said, then he pictured Rachel throwing her arms around Puck when he arrived that evening. "She didn't mention you were in town."

"Yeah, I kinda asked her not to," Puck said, and when Kurt frowned he took a few steps forward and reached out to put his hand on Kurt's arm. "Not because I didn't want to see you. Pretty much the opposite, actually."

Kurt shook his head, but he didn't try to shake Puck off this time. "You're not making any sense. How long have you been in the city?"

"A couple months. Hear me out," Puck added, his grip on Kurt tightening as soon as he felt Kurt tense. "Shelby took a job teaching at some community college in Jersey, and I figured if I wanted to be more to my kid than a birthday card once a year I was going to have to move too. I knew you and Rachel were still rooming together, so I called her when I got to town. But when she said you were dating some guy from school and you were crazy about him, I decided to leave it alone."

"But why?" Kurt asked, and now he was more confused than ever, because it sounded like...but that couldn't be right. "I thought we were...friends, sort of. What would my dating someone have to do with saying hello?"

“Nothing, if I was just catching up with a friend.” Puck paused and let out a frustrated breath, then he let go of Kurt’s arm and reached for his hand, and when he threaded their fingers together Kurt didn’t pull away. “But I watched you with Blaine back in high school, and I didn’t say anything then, because I figured you’d just laugh in my face. Then you left town and I figured I’d blown my chance, if I ever had one in the first place.”

“Are you saying that you had… _feelings_ for me? In high school?” Kurt asked, and it sounded like his voice, but he had to be hallucinating, because there was no way he was having this conversation with Puck, of all people. Then Puck laughed, his hand tightening around Kurt’s for a second, and Kurt knew it wasn’t a hallucination.

“Yeah,” Puck answered, shrugging and swaying a little closer, and just for a second Kurt thought – hoped – Puck was going to kiss him again. Instead Puck looked down at their hands for a beat, then another, and when he finally looked up Kurt’s heart clenched hard in his chest. “Don’t get me wrong, it took me awhile to get there. But once we were cool you were already taken, and after all the shit I put you through, I figured the best thing I could do for you was stay out of the way.”

He had a point. If Puck had tried to kiss him in high school, Kurt probably wouldn’t have taken him seriously. He wouldn’t have had a reason to, and he didn’t really have a reason now, except that Puck looked so _sincere_ , and Kurt really wanted to believe it.

“So why didn’t you call when you got to New York? I mean, if you’ve been carrying a torch all this time,” Kurt said, and he wanted to laugh, because the thought of Puck carrying a torch for _him_ was insane. Yet here they were, and they hadn’t even gone out on a date yet, but it was still the best night Kurt had had since he left Ohio.

“I told you, Rachel said you were all wrapped up with some theater geek. I didn’t want to show up and mess that up for you.”

“Believe me, there was nothing worth messing up,” Kurt said, his frown turning bitter when he remembered a humiliating text message and two weeks of attempting not to make eye contact with anyone in his classes. But that didn’t matter anymore, because Puck was here, and he was offering… _something_ , Kurt was pretty sure. “Why now?”

“I told you, Beth…”

“No, I mean why tonight?” Kurt interrupted, his stomach twisting at the thought that Puck might know exactly how his last relationship ended. “What did Rachel tell you?”

“She said you were a free agent again,” Puck answered, and when he shrugged Kurt couldn’t tell whether or not he knew the details. “I asked if she thought if you’d care if I came by, and she seemed to think it was a pretty good idea. So here I am.”

“And?”

“And what?” Puck asked, frowning at Kurt now, and it was sort of cute, in a strange way.

“Here you are,” Kurt said, squeezing Puck’s hand for emphasis, “so what do you want from me?”

“Whatever you wanna give me,” Puck answered, and Kurt had to give him points for honesty. Then he swayed forward again, and Kurt didn’t pull his hand away, but he turned his head so that Puck’s mouth landed somewhere in the vicinity of his ear.

He heard Puck’s disappointed sigh, and there was a part of him that could sympathize, because their first kiss hadn’t lasted very long, but it was long enough for Kurt to want more. Except that it was _Puck_ , showing up out of nowhere without any warning, and it just figured the one time Rachel kept her mouth shut was the one time Kurt could have used a heads up.

“It’s not that I don’t want…” Kurt paused, his face flushing again, and he was sure Puck could feel it. “It’s just...this is all a little fast.”

Puck sighed again, then he nodded and pulled back, and when Kurt saw the look on his face he was sorry he hadn’t just let Puck kiss him. “Yeah, I kind of figured that’s what you would say. Still, you can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

When he started to pull his hand out of Kurt’s it dawned on him what Puck was saying, and Kurt tightened his grip again and swallowed a surge of panic. “I’m not saying no.”

“You’re not?” Puck said, and the truth was that Kurt felt as surprised as Puck sounded, because there was no way he ever would have imagined having this conversation with Noah Puckerman, of all people.

“No,” Kurt answered, and when he smiled Puck grinned back at him. “But I did just get out of a relationship, as you know, so if you’re serious about this...”

“I’m serious,” Puck said, and the force with which he said it made Kurt’s heart skip a beat. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Kurt. Just give me a chance.”

Kurt nodded, then he glanced down at their hands where they were still entwined. It felt a little strange to be holding Puck’s hand, especially after all this time, but in a way it felt...right. A little bit like coming home, and Kurt knew it was ridiculous, but there it was all the same. “Maybe we could start with a first date and take it from there.”

Puck nodded, then he let out another sigh, and for just a second Kurt wanted to throw caution to the wind and just take whatever Puck was offering. But if Puck really was serious, this could be...something, anyway, and Kurt didn’t want to mess it up by rushing.

“Can I at least kiss you again?”

Kurt knew he should refuse; ‘taking it slow’ definitely didn’t involve kissing before they even got to their first official date, after all. But they’d already kissed once, and he was already regretting stopping it before it really started, so instead Kurt nodded and let Puck tug him forward. This time when Puck’s arm slid around his waist Kurt wrapped his arms around Puck’s neck and pulled him even closer, lips parted to let Puck in and sighing into the kiss.

It was just a kiss, but Kurt felt it all the way to his toes, and if this was what Puck was offering, Kurt definitely wasn’t saying no.


End file.
